


Mob Justice

by LilahMontgomery



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Graphic Violence, Heavy Angst, M/M, Post War AU, Some Fluff, Some Romance, executions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-09-23 18:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9671396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilahMontgomery/pseuds/LilahMontgomery
Summary: Post War AU. The Death eaters are rounded up after the fall of the Dark Lord. Snape is taken and subjected to the will of the angry mob while Harry and Draco escape.Harry battles his own demons to do what's right, despite his increasing and complicated feelings towards the fugitive he is protecting...ON HOLD





	1. Chapter 1

 

**_ Beta love to Lady_Malfoy and Over8000. Thank you so much for the help you continue to give me and encouragement you provide.   _ **

* * *

 

 

**Prologue**

 

**2nd May 1998**

  


“As usual, Mister Potter, you overestimate your own importance and the sway your celebrity status offers you,” Snape spat from the floor. “You are as arrogant as ever. Triumphing over the Dark Lord has seemingly done nothing for your already massive ego except inflate it still further! I am astounded your neck is able to support your head as it has grown so large. One wonders how-“

“Would you shut up?!” Harry demanded angrily, “I’m trying to save your life!”

A silence fell over the room as Ron and Hermione shifted uncomfortably in the corner waiting for Snape’s reply.

The Shrieking Shack felt very large with just the four of them inside it. It creaked in the dark night and anyone’s imagination could easily invent voices or footsteps coming from another room if one felt so inclined. This was not a place anyone wanted to find themselves for long.

Snape propped himself up on his elbows, blood drying in the moonlight by his neck where he had been bitten not long before.

“That’s what I’m saying- you CAN’T.”

Harry stepped forward with a defiant look and stared the man down.

“I’ll tell them you were a double agent working with Dumbledore; that you were on our side! I’ll make sure everyone finds out what you were willing to do in order to defeat Vold-“

“DO NOT SPEAK HIS NAME!”

Harry sighed and spun on his heel, then ran his hands through his hair in a frustrated manner.

“Potter…”

The three young adults fixed on Snape as he spoke, in a quiet and slow manner:

“Potter, they won’t care. I killed Dumbledore, stood by the Dark Lord, was Headmaster at this school while atrocities were committed here- they WON’T care WHY I did it, just that I DID! Please leave- go and celebrate your victory and leave me alone…”

“No!” Harry shouted in anger, storming towards the man on the floor. “I won’t let them near you! You have sacrificed EVERYTHING to get us to victory-“

“Not quite everything…” Snape said, “I’ll give the rest soon, I’d imagine…”

Harry glanced at Hermione who held very tight grip on Ron’s shirt and shook her head. Ron looked imploringly into Harry’s eyes before comforting her.

The boy turned back to Snape who stared at a patch of dust on the floor, unblinking.

“You shouldn’t have to go through any more,” Harry said, “It isn’t fair.”

Snape looked up at him. For the first time in their acquaintance with each other, he looked sad and vulnerable. His arms hung limp at his sides, his hair matted with his own blood and a distant look in his wet eyes.

“I let a lot of people die in front of me to maintain cover, Harry,” he answered, his voice detached and shaking, “I was a Death Eater for two years before defecting and siding against the Dark Lord as well. In that time, I did things which would earn me a lifetime in Azkaban-under different circumstances. You are attaching this ridiculous compassion to me, but you care nothing for my victims? Their families? Where is their justice? You may wish to deny them of it, but I do not. I cannot go to my…my…”  he closed his eyes as his voice cracked and he took a moment to regain his composure. “I cannot go to my… grave… with so much on my conscience...Death is the penalty for my crimes…”

He ran his fingers through his hair as the three teenagers stared at him mute, their hopes of rescuing him fading.

Tears pricked in Harry’s eyes and he knelt down where he stood.

“Snape,” he tried once again, “come with us. Let me hide you until your name is cleared and everyone knows what you have done for them…”

Snape shook his head, then stood up and glared at Harry with a stern look they all knew so well.

“You are not listening, as usual,” he snapped, “You would condemn me to a life of paranoia and hatred. You may convince a few but never will you convince them all- and where does that leave me? Looking over my shoulder whenever I leave the house? Sitting indoors while they throw bricks through my windows? I think not. There is nothing to my life but the mission, I committed to that when I switched sides all those years ago. Now that it is done, so am I!”

He spun on his heel and dragged himself to an ugly looking armchair in the corner, his cloak flapping behind him. As he sat, the shadows hid his face from view.

Harry started to argue, but the noise from outside alerted him to the fact they were no longer hidden.

Ron ran to the window and looked out before turning to the others, frantic.

“There’s a crowd of witches and wizards heading towards the front of the house,” he explained, “Harry- if we’re going to move, we’d better do it now!”

Harry swung round to face Snape in a panic and took out his wand. Snape did not even look up.

“Come on!” Harry begged, “Please come with us!”

“Leave me,” Snape ordered from his corner, “enjoy your victory and do not stay for this. Grant me at least some dignity.”

“Harry, we have to stop them!” Hermione shouted over the banging downstairs.

The three of them positioned themselves in front of the door, wands out, ready to defend their ex-potions master from the mob coming up the stairs.

“Leave!” Snape commanded again.

Harry remained where he was.

“They’ll kill you.” Harry stated.

“If I’m lucky,” came the reply.

* * *

 

Draco shivered in his soaking robes, breath coming in pants and panic rising in his chest. The mud under the trees of the Forbidden Forest sucked his boots in, holding him in place as his terrified eyes scanned for signs the crowd had followed him. How he had escaped, he was unsure.

He ran a shaking hand through his hair and released beads of sweat from his platinum locks.

 _Where are Mother and Father?_ He wondered, _I thought they were behind me!_

Draco had followed his father’s orders to flee when the Dark Lord fell and the Light wizards had started rounding the Death Eaters up. All had been done in shocked silence at first, but then a few Dark Wizards had begun to struggle and the situation had escalated into violence.

Tears ran down his cheeks as he desperately assessed his options. His Mother and Father were capable of looking after themselves, but he was a student-how could he get away?

Through the forest?

He looked over his shoulder into the unforgiving deep of the woods and cowered away against a birch. No, there was no way he would run through there! Never again!

Could he make it to the Boathouse by the lake unseen? Draco risked ducking his head out from the treeline and quickly retracted it again. He could see people with torches and lit wands walking around the perimetre of the castle and he realised it was only a matter of time before they found him.

 _Perhaps I should give myself up, h_ e pondered, _Father has always been very resourceful in these matters, as long as I can find someone  official…_

He gasped with fear before removing his boots from the mud with an audible squelch and started carefully towards the school.

He neared the brow of the hill and ducked low as his night-vision spotted movement. He squatted  to the ground and waited for the shapes to pass. There were two of them. One wizard had a ragged jacket and was quite tall. He had long straggly dark hair and his wand held above him. The other, Draco recognised as Professor Slughorn, the teacher who had overlooked him all year.

“Still missing the Malfoy boy, Professor,” one voice said. Draco’s heart skipped a beat as he heard his name and held his breath. The stranger continued: “They killed Lucius before we could get to him- thank goodness Narcissa was more cooperative…”

Slughorn gave a reply but Draco no longer paid attention. His eyes spilled heartbroken tears and he fought to control the magic simmering under his skin.

He held his mouth shut and cried in silence until the men had gone, then bolted towards to Whomping Willow.

 _It can’t be true! It just can’t! Father can’t be…_ He channelled his magic into his wand and blasted a nearby tree, reducing it to embers, then ran as fast as he could, screaming while he did so.

He no longer cared if he was captured or what they would do to him if he was found. He couldn’t think about a future without his family or being forced to live in shame and be shunned by the rest of the world. He had one thought on his mind: the violent tree would be indiscriminate to anyone stupid enough to follow him. He was probably finished, but he refused to surrender without a fight.  

He ran, half tripping over his own feet to the Willow. His pyrotechnics had attracted some attention. He could hear raised voices a little way behind him and pressed on as quickly as his exhausted body would allow.

Another surge of magic, another tree reduced to cinders as he raced by, the tree coming into view.

* * *

 

The door broke open and angry witches and wizards poured in at such a force that the trio found themselves swept aside.

Harry was crushed against the wall and gasped for breath as people pushed past him, yelling and calling to each other.

He could not see the others and pushed back against the crowd in an attempt to get to Snape.

“Stop! Stop!” He cried, pulling at robes and hair- whatever he could reach- trying to get through.

“I’m Harry Potter! Listen to me! I’m Harry Potter!”

There was a blood-curdling scream followed by laughter and angry cries. Harry’s heart jolted as he realised they had gotten to Snape and redoubled his efforts.

“Please! Stop!” He yelled at the jostling crowd.

The bulk of people shifted from the upstairs room and down the stairs again, leaving Harry with a few stragglers, including Hermione, though he could not see Ron.

Hermione ran across the room and grabbed Harry tightly, tears pouring down her face.

Harry prised her off and scanned the room, frantic.

“Snape?” He asked, knowing the answer already.

“They had him on the ground,” Hermione replied breathlessly, “They were attacking him- one of them stamped on his fingers- they must be broken…” She stopped talking and wept, her whole form shook.

Ron rejoined them from downstairs, though his hollow look and sad eyes told Harry all he needed to know.

“They’ve got a few of them beating and cursing him,” he stated flatly, “They’re taking him with the other Death Eaters to the Ministry- if he makes it…”

Harry turned away from his friends and paced the room. He had seen the Potion’s Master’s memories and knew all Snape had done had been for love and atonement. Whatever hatred he had once held for the aloof, difficult man had melted away when his motivations had become clear.

His mind raced with information. He was still yet to return to the school and discover the fates of his dearest friends. He was sure many of them had jumped into the fight…

 _Remus..._ he realised, _I hope he’s ok…Hagrid....Tonks...Ron’s family..._

“If they’re taking him to the Ministry then that’s fine, we at least know where he is,” Harry concluded out loud, turning to the others. “We need to go back and tell McGonagall what’s happened, then help our friends and families.”

Ron nodded, clearly desperate to return to the castle. Hermione looked at him before nodding in agreement.

“McGonagall is in the Order and is best placed to help him now, there’s nothing more we can do…” she stated.

Minds made up, the three started towards the hidden door leading to the tunnel and Whomping Willow

* * *

 

Draco had almost reached the willow before he was thrown backwards by a stunning spell. The sheer force of it was enough to end him hurtling through the air and he landed on his back with a hard thump. The spell had hit his chest square on and knocked him clean off his feet and onto his back, winding him. He gasped for air and rolled onto his stomach, and came face to face with his attacker.

“Malfoy?” Weasley spat, “What the bloody hell are you doing?”

Draco winced as his body lanced with pain from the curse, but pushed himself up onto his hands and knees to observe his rivals.

Initially not wishing to show weakness, he scowled angrily in reply.

Potter appeared at Weasley’s shoulder and glared at him in the dark.

“Malfoy? What’s going on? Are they after you too?”

Draco narrowed his eyes, but his situation got the better of his bravado and his resolve crumbled. He nodded stiffly and found himself looking up at the ‘golden trio’ with pleading eyes.

“Just after you left…” he explained, “a fight broke out...my father told me to flee….” His voice broke and he found himself unable to continue. He collapsed onto the ground and surrendered to sobs.

“Sweet Merlin, what’s going on?” He heard Weasley exclaim.

“We can’t let them get to Malfoy, Hermione, as big a git he is…” Potter spat with disdain. Draco’s head shot up and he took a breath to calm himself.

“You-you’ll help me?” He spluttered.

A look was exchanged between the three which Draco took as confirmation and scrambled to his feet, practically falling on Potter as he did so. The other youth held him up by his arms and wrapped him in what felt like a cloak.

“I’ll get Malfoy away,” he told the others as fast as he could, “you two need to get to McGonagall and tell her what’s happened to Snape…”

Terror shot through Draco’s body once again as he twisted in Potter’s grip.

“What’s happened to him?” Draco asked urgently.

Potter shushed him, then climbed under the cloak with him as well. In a way which did not seem possible, the cloak was completely transparent despite its weight and Draco found himself silenced by it. Next to him, Potter started driving forwards.

“Don’t ask,” The Gryffindor spat as if reading his mind. “Keep up if you want to get out of this in one piece!”

* * *

 

Severus was aware of the throng of people, bodies everywhere and multiple hands dragging him, hopeless, down the stairs of the shack. His broken fingers were knocked as he held his hand as close to his body as his current positioning would allow.

Rather than the sad resignation he had felt before, his mind betrayed him and his thoughts had started to race a mile a minute.

He twisted in the grip of those who held him. The crowd’s yells were deafening, their closeness panic inducing.

“String him up!” He heard one person yell.

“Kick the bastard’s head in!” Yelled another.

He struggled again and kicked off the floor in an attempt to get away.

 _Oh fuck! I’m going to die!_ He thought.

His breath hitched as the rough threads of a harsh, rough rope rubbed on his neck. He felt the knot being pushed down at the nape and then he was yanked cruelly backwards. He was dragged along the floor as his hands ghosted over the rope, desperately scratching at it, trying to get grip.

The mob started to cheer and bray  for blood. He struggled to draw any breath as the rope now choked him.  

He gasped in pain as a man’s boot smashed into his stomach, followed by the sensation of the floor flying away from him as he was hoisted into the air. He realised his neck hadn’t broken when he came to a halt, kicking on the end of the noose.It was over...  

Dangling by his neck, his vision danced with colours and started swimming before his eyes, the life being squeezed out of him as he continued flailing and scratching at the rope.

Suddenly, he hit the floor again with an almighty crash. He tried to scream as he felt his leg snap and gasped for air as the rope was hastily removed.

He had just enough awareness left, as he lay on the floor spluttering, to look up and see his saviour.

“That’s enough! We are not animals!” McGonagall shouted, holding court beside him. “All these people must face justice! We cannot stoop to their level!”

“Thank you!” He tried to splutter, but his throat hurt too badly to get any words out. She glared down at him with contempt and turned on her heel before sending red sparks into the air with her wand.

Severus pressed his face into the cobblestones and shook with adrenaline before holding himself and surrendering to tears.       

* * *

 

Draco walked into the dark, damp kitchen at Grimmauld Place in a mixture of shock and wonder. He felt detached from his body, his mind rifting off into the events of the night as if they were a nightmare.

He caught himself on a gnarled, uncomfortable chair and sat in a trance-state, his eyes barely focused.

Potter followed him, dusting off the cape and rubbing his eyes. Draco regarded him distantly. The dark haired boy looked many things: tired, bedraggled, bloodstained, traumatised...the one thing he did not look like was ‘victorious’. Though this seemed odd, as Draco turned this over slowly in his mind, because…

“The Dark Lord is dead…” he said in a voice which did not feel like his own.

Potter jerked his head up at the sound of his words and nodded.

“So is my father…” he found himself saying.

Potter’s face registered confusion followed by pity as he sat down on a chair nearby.

Draco looked away and sniffed.

“You’re not though,” Potter stated after some time sat in uncomfortable silence.

Draco nodded, unable to speak.

“Snape isn’t either, as far as I know…” Potter continued.

Draco looked at the other boy and watched as a slight hopelessness fell over him. The Slytherin stood and walked over to Harry before pulling him up into an embrace.

Instead of breaking away, the two teens clung to each other for comfort. The remained like that in the miserable, dark house, each wondering how they would ever move on with their shattered lives.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Harry woke with a start. The hair rose on the back of his neck and his breathing was shallow and rapid.

Someone was in his room.

He Looked up at the figure at the end of his bed, clad in shadows and mystery in the darkness. His heart pumping, he slowly sat up a little way and edged his fingers towards his wand.

“Don’t even think about it, Potter...” Warned the angry shape.

_Malfoy?_

Harry sat up and watched as Malfoy slowly walked over to the side of the bed before sitting down on the edge.

The moonlight highlighted his blond hair, beautiful streaks of platinum and gold. Harry could not help but to gaze at it.

“You woke me up screaming again,” Malfoy was saying, “You obviously didn’t hear me through the door so I had to come in. Normally, I’d just cast a charm to block out the sound, but since you have my wand…”

Harry had taken Draco’s replacement wand when he had first allowed the boy sanctuary. He had thought it prudent at the time but had grown a little guilty since. Taking a wizard’s wand was withdrawing his access to his magic. It would be like chopping off a limb to a muggle.

Having woken up a little, Harry realised his skin was coated in a thin film of sweat. He mopped his forehead unconsciously and avoided meeting Malfoy’s eyes. He hated the look of pity the Slytherin was giving him.

“Maybe…” Malfoy said quietly, “Maybe if you talked about these nightmares you’d stop having them?”

Harry rolled his eyes and scoffed. Just what he needed: being psychoanalyzed by _Draco Malfoy_!

“You must be joking,” Harry answered wearily. He pulled his blanket up over his shoulder and gave Draco his back.

To his annoyance, the other youth did not move.

“You’re ridiculous, Potter!” Malfoy spat.

“Why are you still here? Go back to sleep.”

“Not until you tell me what you’re dreaming about.”

“Why should I?”

“Fine!” Draco finally got the message and got off the bed, his footsteps echoing in the large, dark room until he stopped by the door.

“It’s like when we first met,” Malfoy said from the far end of the room, “I offered to help you fit in at Hogwarts and you rejected me out of spite. Think how different both of our lives would have been if you’d have given me a chance!”

Harry did a double take, not quite believing what he was hearing. Before he could respond, the door slammed shut and the room fell silent again.

Harry rolled onto his back and stared at the star-covered ceiling. He growled in anger. Malfoy was completely wrong, he wasn’t refusing his help out of _spite_ , he was refusing because he was _Malfoy_! Why would he, Harry, bare his innermost turmoil to a boy who had bullied and picked on him from the first day of Hogwarts?

Harry reflected in the dark about his dream:

_The mist from the bubbling cauldrons filled the air as Harry walked slowly through the potions dungeon. The only light in the room was the soft orange glow from the fires under each of the student’s stations, though curiously, the room at first glance was deserted._

_His breath stopped and his heart rate increased on spying the lonely shape of Severus Snape standing still as a statue at the front of the room. There was something really odd about the way he was standing, almost weightless dangling just above the ground._

_Harry looked to the right of himself and saw Dumbledore, sitting silently in the front desk. The elderly wizard was wearing his best hat, complete with a colourful bouquet of flowers of every colour and bright purple robes. The cheerful attire had drawn Harry closer until he was level to the former headmaster, though Dumbledore did not seem to notice him._

_He turned his attention back to Snape and gasped, his mouth contorting into a silent scream of horror._

_Snape was dangling from the ceiling from black wires. They had been pushed through his hands, wrists, back and head, the bloody knots visible as they protruded from his robes and flesh.  Pools of blood had gathered under his mutilated body, his face hidden by his long, greasy hair._

_Harry shook his head and looked to Dumbledore, who had turned to face him, a sinister smile plastered on his face._

_Dumbledore raised his wand, his blue eyes fixed on Harry, and started to move the strings magically, moving Snape like a puppet devoid of free will._

_Harry started walking backwards away from the grisly sight, his mind recoiling in terror._

_The last thing he had seen before he had woken up had been Snape’s dead eyes, staring at him in the gloom._

Harry shook his head and started to feel breathless. He took a deep breath for a count of five before slowly releasing it again, repeating until the panic attack had subsided.

Perhaps Malfoy was right. Maybe talking about it would be useful…

He sat up, put his glasses on and climbed gingerly out of bed. His eyes flicked to his two way mirror sadly before settling on the ancient writing desk in the corner.

He pulled out a piece of parchment and started writing.

 

**_Dear Hermione,_ **

**_How are things at Hogwarts? I hope you’re at the top of every class as usual._ **

He paused and let his mind take him back to school for a moment. The companionship, the adventures...his heart yearned for the relatively safe periods in his earlier years and how free he’d felt on a broom...

**_I wondered if you had any time to meet me in the Leaky Cauldron? It’s been ages, I thought you may like a catch up?_ **

**_Love and best wishes,_ **

**_Harry_ **

 

He reread the letter a few times, making sure his anxiety had not made its way into his ink, before sealing it up and writing Hermione’s name on the front.

Thinking of his old school friend fondly, he felt better already.

Another pang of sorrow as he remembered he’d have to floo to the nearest owlery to send it since Hedwig was gone, and he had crossed the room again and climbed into bed.

He slowly relaxed and let his eyes slip shut, breathing deeply and sighing as he drifted to sleep.

* * *

 

Harry woke abruptly with pain radiating from his head. He twisted over on the hard bedroom floor and fought to untangle himself from his blankets. Finally freed, he gasped and held his head until the thudding stopped.

He piled his blankets back on the bed he had fallen out of, grateful he had not chosen a higher one, and padded to the bathroom.

To his annoyance, the door did not move. He hammered his fists on it until he heard an angry reply from inside.

“Go away, Potter! I’m in the bath!”

“Use your own bathroom!” Harry yelled.

“Make it as grand as this one and I will! Until then-go away!”

Harry gritted his teeth and kicked the bottom of the door before giving up and traipsing down the stairs.

_I should just hand him over to the Aurors. That’d teach him!_ He thought bitterly.

He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen and stared, confused, at the table. There were two places set at it, using the finest crockery and cutlery in the house. The glasses had been filled with what looked like fresh orange juice and a pot of tea sat proudly in the centre of the table. Harry turned his attention to the oven which was filling the room with the most delicious scent of baking pastry.

Harry was dumbfounded. He walked slowly into the room and sat in one of the seats, sniffing the orange juice before drinking some.

The cool liquid flowed down his throat in the most refreshing way. For a moment, the tangy taste of orange was enough to take his mind off his troubles.

“After yesterday, I had a look through the cupboards in here,” Draco’s voice came from by the door.

Harry started and turned to see Malfoy standing in the doorway. The youth was wearing dark, silk boxer shorts and a fitted black t-shirt, showcasing his toned body.

Harry presumed he was a little envious of the other boy as he could hardly tear his eyes away. He also found himself remembering Draco’s bare torso under the t-shirt.

He sniffed and glanced at the oven, half out of curiousity, half to distract himself from the flesh on show.

“Croissants,” Draco explained, walking to the oven and removing the pastries with an oven glove, “Found loads in the pantry…”

“We have a pantry?” Harry asked, surprised.

Malfoy grinned triumphantly and transferred the croissants to a silver serving platter, placed it between them on the table and sat down opposite.

Saying nothing which may give any satisfaction, Harry took one and grabbed the butter before tearing at his breakfast and enjoying the way it seemed to melt in his mouth.

Malfoy did the same and the two ate in silence before Harry’s irritation got the better of him.

“Ok-what’s this about?” He snapped, dropping his food onto his plate and glaring across the table, “If you think this is going to make me ‘open up to you’ or whatever, you’re about to have an ugly reality check…”

Harry felt immediately guilty as a look of genuine hurt crossed Draco’s face. The Slytherin took a quick sip from his glass before answering.

“I actually just wanted to do something to thank you for helping me, actually. I also thought that you may be struggling a little bit after all the nightmares last night...you don’t eat enough anyway…” He trailed off uncharacteristically before fixing his signature smirk on his face again. “Besides, Potter: some of us are used to rather more luxury than you have been providing. Would it _kill you_ to demonstrate a little _class_?”

Harry much preferred Draco’s usual persona to the concern so he chose to smirk back and roll his eyes.

Breakfast went by, punctuated with playful gabs at each other. Malfoy eventually retired upstairs declaring since he had cooked, Harry had to wash up.

Harry cast the Scouring Charm on the plates in the sink and helped himself to a cup of tea, smiling.

As he sipped it, he realised he had started to quite enjoy Malfoy’s company. At the very least, they were keeping each other’s minds off their separate problems…

Harry thought of Snape and the late Lucius Malfoy, his heart swelling with sympathy. He had never _liked_ either man, certainly, but their fates made him feel nausea whenever he remembered.

He glanced out of the window wistfully at the grand garden beyond the doors, yet another project he had been ignoring.

Draco had yet to speak of his father’s death, his mother’s arrest or Snape’s capture. Harry put his tea down and crossed his arms, furrowing his brow in thought. Perhaps he, Harry, was not the only one refusing to discuss his feelings…

* * *

 

Snape had not slept in several days. His eyelids were very heavy but the intense pain throbbing from where Arto had branded him had remained constant.

They had left him alone which had been a mixed blessing. He wasn’t hungry, the pain he was in had seen to that, but he had eked out the glass of water he had been given more than three days previously and was dangerously thirsty.

His mind was also starting to play tricks on him and he had taken to talking out loud to himself.

“They’ll kill me eventually, they won’t leave me here to die on my own…” He reassured himself while picking anxiously at his callused thumb. “It’d be too much fun to watch me dying, they won’t leave me here…”

He shook his head and sat up, placing his feet carefully on the floor. He swallowed slightly which hurt his dry throat.

“They won’t leave me to die on my own…” He told himself again. To keep himself busy, Snape stood and started hobbling around his small cell, counting the cracks in the stone.

There had been forty seven the day before. He had allowed himself a smile for finding two which he had missed the day before.

“I’d have done anything for this much free time when I was teaching…” He chuckled, losing count and retracing his steps.

He jumped as he heard tutting behind him.

“Gone mad already, have you?” Arto asked. He leaned against the bars menacingly, his dark eyes full of glee in the dim light.

Snape tried not to recoil and stood with his hands clamped across the front of his prison robes, feet slightly apart.

“I can assure you I have retained my sanity,” He replied as evenly as he could, “What’s more, I shall be reporting ill treatment when I am collected for my sentencing hearing.”

His vision swam a little though he was determined to stay upright, not wishing to convey any weakness.

He narrowed his eyes as Arto began laughing.

“You-Know-Who’s inner cycle have either been killed already or have had secret trials. Only direct family members were informed. I’m guessin’ since there weren’t no one at your trial, you either don’t have any family or they hate you as much as everyone else does. Basically: you’re outta luck, mate…”

The reality dawned on Snape as he turned over the information in his head.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Arto said sadistically, his eyes narrowing, “No one knows you’re here and no one is coming to save you.”

Snape scoffed and looked away, attempting to control his emotions. Panic was rising in his chest as he fought to control his face.

“I expect execution…” He said quietly, “When do you intend to carry this out? I demand to know.”

Arto grinned and reached for his keys. He fiddled with the lock until the door swung open.

Snape found himself pressing back into the stone wall, putting as much distance between himself and the guard as possible.

Snape’s eyes flicked down to Arto’s hand, spying his wand.

“Where’s your master now, eh?” Arto asked, walking like a cat stalking its prey. “The man who killed The Great Dumbledore...not so tough without your friends, are you?”

The Slytherin watched helplessly as the wand came up and flashed. A thousand needles forced their way under his skin, burning him from the inside out. He screamed and convulsed painfully but the agony was everywhere.

Just as he had given up hope of ever knowing anything but pain again, it stopped.

Severus felt giddy and rolled around on the floor, groaning, incapable of any further thought. His eyes stayed firmly clamped shut and his face remained a mask of pain.

“What’re you doing, mate?” Another man was heard saying.

“I’m just seeing how he likes the Cruciatus Curse, just a bit of fun…” Arto answered.

Snape opened his eyes slightly, noticing one of the other guards talking in an urgent whisper to his torturer.

“We said no wands,” He was saying, “We’ll end up in here with them if we get caught using an Unforgivable Spell!”

He watched Arto roll his eyes, sneer down at him, then walk out of the cell and down the corridor, leaving himself and the other guard in the room together.

The guard reached his water glass and tapped it with his wand, refilling it. He started to leave but Snape found the strength to call him back.

“Please, when can I have more water?” He asked croakily, “It’s just it was days last time and I’m thirsty, I need to know if I’m getting more soon or…?”

The guard simply smirked cruelly and slammed the gate.

“Please, wait!” Snape managed to get onto his elbows, “I need to know if I need to ration it...please..?”

His pleas fell on deaf ears and the man walked out of sight, leaving the wizard alone again.


End file.
